Farrant. [Grumbling.] It's a quarter to eleven. Doesn't Blackborough mean to turn up at all?
Horsham. He was out of town ... my note had to be sent after him. I couldn't wire, you see.
Farrant. No.
Cantelupe. It was by the merest chance your man caught me, Cyril. I was taking the ten fifteen to Tonbridge and happened to go to James Street first for some papers.
The conversation flags again.
Cantelupe. But since Mrs. O'Connell is dead what is the excuse for a scandal?
At this unpleasant dig into the subject of their thoughts the three other men stir uncomfortably.
Horsham. Because the inquest is unavoidable ... apparently.
Wedgecroft. [Suddenly letting fly.] I declare I'd I'd have risked penal servitude and given a certificate, but just before the end O'Connell would call in old Fielding Andrews, who has moral scruples about everything—it's his trademark—and of course about this...!
Farrant. Was he told of the whole business?